I Beg Pardon
When my race is run and done
And I reminisce why I stun
Doubting Thomases who to my head point a gun
Expecting my soul to project fear
From my eyes to pour a tear
As I utter ‘Thank you, my dear’
Ripe quaint age smiling
Memories from my pate swirling
Satisfaction from my bosom brimming from floor to my ceiling
I’d slump to my knees
Gratitude seizing keys
Snapping open doors to freedom to please
My Creator
Who appointed me knowledge disseminator
An avid ignorance interrogator
I’d smile awhile
Pray at length for a while
Promoting a sane lifestyle
Denoting gratitude
In remnants of the fortitude
Sunk deep into the attitude
I ought to cultivate
In every pore of my soul to fete
Virtues and the denial of vices as I celebrate
Opportunities granted to appreciate bounties
Teeming with certainties
Encountered in my late seventies
If I should blush
Nurturing no crush
Which I’d gladly flush
To usher in the penultimate era
That would prevent a camera
From snapping selfies of mascara
That disfigures my natural looks
To invite unscrupulous spooks
From inserting plastic surgery hooks
I deride
As forward I stride
To prevent my pride
From surging forth
Feeling cocky that sloth
No longer invades and pervades the fabric of the cloth
I don
With abandon
As I beg for my bae’s pardon.
Copyright © John Sensele | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment